Umino Iruka woke up happy, hopeful, and far too unaware of Kakashi’s plans. He, like any normal man, jerked off and then went on his merry way, heading towards the academy. On his way there he ran into one Hatake Kakashi.

“Go-” And Kakashi was kissing Iruka. Iruka did the only sensible thing one can do when being molested on their way to an academy. He kissed back. The kiss grew its own crowd of viewers, mostly small children wondering why the infamous copy-nin was trying to kill the academy teacher by asphyxiation and young women wondering if they could watch more, for a price, of course. Finally, after the crowd had grown to the size of a small country, and was establishing a government and a set currency, the kiss ended. “-od morning, Kakashi-san,” Iruka panted out.

Kakashi smiled, or rather, since his mask was already up, his eye smiled, though, technically, it was frowning, but I digress. The infamous copy-nin smiled, raised a hand, and disappeared. Iruka stared at the spot where Kakashi was in something akin to shock and not far from disbelief.

“Ah?” Yes, Iruka even made a shocked and disbelieving noise. After a few good minutes had ticked away and the majority of the crowd had wandered off in search of more rampant hormones he moved from his frozen state, trudging off to the academy, thinking thoughts of annoyance and castration.

When the bells of the academy rang that afternoon the children of Iruka-sensei’s class bolted, those able to run dragging and carrying their friends and fallen comrades who were no longer able to do so. Those children unable to run with lesser friends dragged themselves out, frantically crying out for their lesser friends to come back and save them. It seems that during the six hours, seventeen minutes, and thirty-two seconds between the kiss and the ringing of the bell, not including the thirty-one minutes and nineteen seconds of recess, Iruka’s thoughts of annoyance and castration had turned to thoughts of rage and homicide.

When the last weeping child had finished dragging himself out the door Iruka stood up from the chair he had been glowering at the children from the last half of the day. He sulked about the room, picking up the shuriken and kunai he’d been hurling, and contemplated washing the blood of the walls. After deciding that his students needed the reminder to pay attention in class he sulked his way out, looking for all the world like a little dark, ominous rain cloud of death. Or homicide. Whatever.

“Damnit, Kakashi,” he snarled softly, glaring at the frightened street.

“Yes?”

Iruka whipped around, pointing a hand shaking in pure, pure rage at the jounin, eyes wide and accusing. “You!” Iruka screamed.

“Me!” Kakashi chirped, eye curved up in the frown that was really a smile.

“You!” Iruka screamed in rage.

“Me!” Kakashi chirped happily.

Iruka snarled under his breath, face twisting up into a horrifying mix between a pout and a glare. He huffed, then grabbed Kakashi’s wrist, dragging the jounin after him as he stomped down the street. The citizens of Konoha watched with interest as the sight to be seen. Iruka was stomping with rage and frustration and a unhealthy leaning towards homicide down the street, dragging along a complacent, happy, far-too-cheerful-for-his-own-good, practically skipping Kakashi.

“God-damned-fucking-kissing-bastard” was heard from Iruka as he stomped down the street. “Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid geniuses, all running around being complete idiots.” He turned a corner and continued stomping, pulling a far-too-willing Kakashi. “Running around and kissing people, kissing then disappearing, like the complete and utter bastards they are.” Kakashi was beginning to learn that each time Iruka accented a word he’s pull harder, shaking the jounin. “Damn, damn, damn jounin.” By this time they’d reached the chuunin’s apartment building and Iruka was standing in the doorway, staring up the long stairway leading to his apartment. On the fifth floor. He sighed, realizing just how much energy it took to stomp for an extended amount of time. He suddenly had a growing respect for Naruto and angry, temper-tantrum-throwing children everywhere.

After weight his options for a moment Iruka decided to drop with the stomping. If it hadn’t made an impression on the genius yet, then it probably wouldn’t any time soon. Securing his hold on Kakashi’s wrist, he bounded up the stairs, missing the majority of the steps on the way, and taking a sadistic glee in the occasional thump of Kakashi’s head slamming into the steps Iruka bounded over. When they finally reached Iruka’s door, the chuunin a little too cheerful and Kakashi nursing a bruised forehead, Iruka began fumbling with the lock, twisting the key impatiently. That was, impatiently until he was suddenly groped.

“The hell!”

Kakashi blinked his eye at the irate teacher then pushed on the door, smiling when it swung open. He stepped in, glancing around as Iruka stalked in after him, slamming the door shut.

“What the hell was that for?”

“What?” Kakashi’s tone was innocent, naïve even.

“The- The grope! And that kiss! The kiss that all of my students saw.” He turned around from kicking his shoes off and locking the door to find that Kakashi was no longer in the entry. He snarled a few words of questionable nature as he skulked down the hallway, peering through doorways. Ah, there, in the living room…

“Nice couch,” the jounin said conversationally from his lounge across the couch. Iruka’s couch. Iruka’s. An Iruka who was shaking in anger.

“You,” he said elegantly. “You, you, you.” The chuunin was again stomping, this time across the room to stand in front of the lounging copy-nin.

Kakashi nodded intelligently. After all, he’s a genius. “Me.” His eye was curving up as Iruka moved closer, legs on either side of Kakashi’s, body sinking lower.

“You jerk,” Iruka snarled as he straddled Kakashi, grabbing his silver hair and tugging. Kakashi winced then pulled Iruka closer, getting a good grope as he did so. “You kissed me.”

“Ah, ah,” he said in a sing-song voice, still too pleased with himself. “I was only showing my love and appreciation for you, so hard working and dedicated.”

“I’ll show you love and appreciation,” Iruka threatened, nipping at the mouth beneath the mask.

“That,” a groan, “would be wonderful,” a few pants, “sensei.”

Iruka mentally patted himself on the back. Yes, this would certainly teach Kakashi. After this, the jounin would never harass him again. Yes, of course, because it’s not harassment if everyone’s willing. Good job, Iruka. He put a stop to the doubting in his mind, turning his attention to the jounin and the most interesting things said jounin was doing with his hands. And wait, weren’t things like that illegal? Iruka chalked up his next actions to the need for self-preservation. He grabbed the mask and tugged it down, attaching himself to the bottom lip that was looking far too smug.

After exploring Kakashi’s mouth to his satisfaction Iruka moved his attention up and over, licking his way to Kakashi’s left ear, giving the lobe an experimental swipe of his tongue before he licked the shell. Kakashi groaned and pulled Iruka even closer, thrusting his hips up against the chuunin’s.

Iruka found this reaction most amusing and repeating the procedure, flicking his tongue over the jounin’s ear. Kakashi flinched away from the tongue and gasped before breaking out into the oddest sounding giggles ever heard. They sounded vaguely similar to the sound a dying wombat makes.

Iruka pulled back in pure horror. “Oh my god…” He sounded as though someone had died. Kakashi blinked and tilted his head to the side, curious.

“What? Why’d you stop?”

“You giggled,” the chuunin gasped, torn between laughing hysterically and running away screaming.

Kakashi was on his feet in an instant, dropping Iruka on the floor. “Get out of my house,” he roared, resplendent in all his glory, his vest gone, shirt half-ripped off, and hair oddly lopsided.

Iruka leaped to his feet, nose to nose with Kakashi, roaring on back. “This is my house, you giggling freak!” And, like all calm, rational adults, they calmly, rationally talked things out.

“I was not giggling,” Kakashi screamed in Iruka’s face.

“Were too,” Iruka screamed back.

“Was not!”

“Were too!”

“Was not!”

“Were too!”

“Was not!”

“Were too!”

“Were not!”

“Was,” Iruka automatically corrected, before screaming back again, “Were too!”

“Was not!”

“Were too!”

“Was,” and here Kakashi performed a drastic measure for drastic times, kissing Iruka, “not!”

Iruka snarled and kissed Kakashi back, muttering something against Kakashi’s mouth that sounded suspiciously like “burr coo,” but again, I digress.

Kakashi retaliated to this kiss by grabbing Iruka’s shirt and pulling, yanking it up as far as it would go with Iruka’s arms at such inconvenient angles around Kakashi’s neck, and groped him nice and good. Iruka retaliated to the retaliation of the attack upon the initial kiss by fumbling at Kakashi’s belt desperately. Rip, slip, brush-

“Aaaaah,” Kakashi moaned, or tried to moan, or would have moaned, could he have moaned. Instead, he was busy trying to choke Iruka by shoving his tongue down the chuunin’s throat before said chuunin could kill him by the same means. Ah, the dangerous life of a ninja.

Iruka pulled away from Kakashi’s mouth, gasping for air, before turning his attack upon the jounin’s neck. There were at least 67 ways to kill a man with a pair of teeth and a neck, and Iruka fully intended to use each one of this methods. “Gai fauna buck moo,” he murmured as he attached himself to Kakashi’s jugular. The jounin pulled back, stunned.

“What did you say?” Not that Kakashi, a genius, really didn’t understand the first time.

“I said,” Iruka panted, still kissing, I mean, biting, Kakashi, “that I wanna fuck you.”

Now, at this moment, it was easy to see that Kakashi’s face said, in loud, clear lettering, ‘what the hell are you talking about, bitch?’ Of course, no man alive is stupid enough to actually say that to one Umino Iruka. Instead, Kakashi said:

“What the hell are you talking about, bitch?”

“What?” A pissed and horny Iruka is a frightening thing indeed. Any lesser man would have been pissing himself, but, luckily, Kakashi is no lesser man.

“I said, what the hell-”

“I know what you said, I’m just wondering how you can be so stupid to say it. And why did you say it?”

“Because there’s no way I’m going to be bottom. I’m top, me.”

“Why?” Whiny and petulant.

“One,” Kakashi began, far too superior, “I’m a jounin-”

“Our professional lives have no say in our private lives!” Shrieked indignantly.

“Two, I’m a genius-”

“Stupidest genius I’ve ever met.” Muttered grumpily.

“And three, I’m taller.”

“What? No you’re not. No way in hell are you taller.” Stated most assuredly.

“Yes I am.”

“No you’re not.”

“Am too!”

“Are not!”

“Am too!”

“Are not!”

“Am too! And, here, look!” By this point Kakashi had dragged a resisting Iruka into the bathroom, though how he knew where the bathroom was, the world will never know. He flipped on the light and pushed Iruka so the chuunin was standing in front of the mirror, then joined him. “See? I’m taller.”

“That’s just your hair,” Iruka insisted.

“No, it’s not,” Kakashi assured him, pushing down on his hair to prove his point. “See, I’m taller than you, so I’m top.”

“What kind of logic is that? You’re going to ramming up my ass, just because you’re less than an inch taller? What the hell?”

“Three centimeters,” Kakashi corrected Iruka smugly, “or one-point-one-eight inches. That’s more than an inch.” Iruka looked as though he was very close to throttling a certain genius.

“This isn’t fair,” he whined, sounding frighteningly like Naruto.

“Life’s not fair, Iruka. Now, shall we?” Kakashi was far too smug now, and Iruka was getting far too close to throttling the copy-nin. Too close as in, his hands were currently wrapped around Kakashi’s neck and the jounin was making the most interesting noises as he batted at Iruka’s hands.

“How about this, Kakashi,” the teacher said in a sickeningly sweet voice. “You get out, now, and I don’t castrate you.”

“Wha…prollem…” Kakashi tried to wheeze out, face turning an interesting mottled shade of blue.

Iruka let go of the copy-nin’s throat to throw his hands up in the air as he began ranting. “I’m not going to be the bottom! There’s no way in hell I’ll be uke. No way.”

Kakashi took in gasping breaths gratefully, rubbing at his throat gingerly. “But you’re short,” he pointed out unthinkingly. At Iruka’s look of murderous rage he chuckled nervously. “I mean, Asuma’s at least a half-foot taller, and even Genma’s taller than you.”

“Go home,” Iruka screamed calmly, pointing at the door.

“Why?” Kakashi roared back politely.

“Because you’re a bastard!”

“Damnit,” Kakashi snarled, “I was just born early.”

“Ten seconds, Kakashi.”

“Iruka,” he tried a new approach, whining, “I just-”

“Eight seconds.”

“But I-” Indignant.

“Seven.”

“I’ll make you feel good?” Wheedling.

“Don’t piss me off. Four seconds.”

“I know where you sleep.” Threatening.

“Now I’m pissed. One second.”

“But-”

“Time’s up,” Iruka interrupted, a smile that was just a little too blood-thirsty spread across his face.

And a multitude of shuriken chose that moment to plow into the wall in front of which Kakashi had just been standing. He clutched his shirt, trying to force air into his lungs, now standing across the room from the shuriken-battered wall. “Iruka?” Practically squeaking.

“Next time it’s your dick.”

There was a small ‘meep’ as Kakashi grabbed his junk protectively. “But that’s so low,” he said, appalled.

“So is your dick.”

Another barrage of shuriken was thrown and Kakashi fled, leaping to crouch on the window sill.

“Fine,” he roared, back in his resplendent glory, shaking and half-dressed, clutching his junk, and no, not that junk. “Fine, and on your head be it!” Then he left, poofing away, not even quite sure himself what ‘it’ was. Whatever. It didn’t matter, as long as Iruka didn’t know that Kakashi didn’t know, either.

Kakashi skulked back to his home, struggling on his clothing along the way, swearing and kicking at the random pigeons that dared get in his way up on the rooftops. Kicking at one last particularly fat pigeon he threw himself through his window, landing on his bed with a thump. This had been a particularly bad day indeed. He hadn’t got any sex, a terrifying-when-angry chuunin was out for his dick, and birds were beginning to flock outside his window, out for revenge. When the birds began to move closer, cooing angrily, he kicked the window shut and pulled the blankets over his head. Maybe if they couldn’t see them… With that hopeful thought he rolled over to sleep, and maybe, if he was lucky, suffocate, with his face shoved into a pillow.

And damnit, he was still horny.